Configuration of Memories
by K. Therese
Summary: This is a series of memories Kirsty Cotton has repressed, or tried to, since she was five. *May be triggering*
1. An Uncle, a Monkey, and a Man with PIns

Hellraiser and its characters are the property of Clive Barker, whom I love and adore.

Kirsty Meets her Uncle, a Monkey Named Hanuman, and a Strange Man with Needles

Kirsty Cotton had a Nana.

Nana had many, many interesting statues living in her house, of Jesus and his Blessed Mother, Mary, and a few of Joseph the carpenter, and a few of people called saints, who were usually crying. Most of the statues wore pretty robes of pink and blue, and had suns on top of their heads, which, Nana told Kirsty, were called haloes. Kirsty's favorite was the one Nana gave them, with Jesus holding a little baby lamb. She loved to pick flowers and make them into a little crown to put on the lamb's head. This made Nana go all to pieces, saying it was "darling," and that Kirsty was "the most blessed little angel." This made Kirsty happy.

Daddy said Nana was "a nut" because she talked to the statues. Mommy told Daddy he shouldn't talk that way about his own mother, especially in front of Kirsty, because she was too little to know not to repeat things. Kirsty did SO know not to repeat things. She was five years old and not stupid. She would never tell Nana what Daddy said. She would also never tell Nana that if Nana were a nut, she would be an almond. She told Daddy, though, and it made Daddy laugh.

One day, when Kirsty was putting the flowers on Jesus and the Lamb, she felt someone behind her. She turned around and saw a man she'd never seen before. He had brown curly hair and a scratchy face. He wore a white shirt with no sleeves, and his fingernails were dirty.

The man didn't say hello, or say who he was and ask for Mommy or Daddy or Nana. He just smiled without showing his teeth, and kept walking toward Kirsty.

Kirsty tried to think what to do. This man was a stranger, maybe a burglar. He smelled funny, too, all sweaty, but a little like perfume, too. She opened her mouth to call for help. Maybe he would go away if she yelled. But he kept coming toward her, and she found herself staring at his belt buckle. His belt buckle was a circle, not a square, and now she saw that it wasn't just a circle, but two snakes with bright red eyes. Each snake's tail was in the other snake's mouth. Kirsty forgot to yell.

When the belt buckle was so close Kirsty could see the scales on the snakes, and then their little fangs, the man put his hand on her head. At first, he stroked her gently, like Mommy told her to pet little dogs they met at the park. Kirsty always pet dogs and cats gently, to prove that she would be a good owner of a puppy or kitty. If she was nice, Mommy and Daddy would get her one for her birthday, or Christmas. The man's hand closed into a fist in Kirsty's curls.

"Go ahead, beautiful," he said. "Go on and touch it."

"Frank?"

Nana had come in. It was Frank. Daddy's brother Frank! Frank was here!

The grown-ups were very odd about Frank. Nana talked about him sadly because she missed him, and asked Kirsty to pray for him. Daddy rolled his eyes about him, and said he was incorrigible and stupid. Mommy did not like Uncle Frank. She said so. "He's creepy, Larry," she would say, and Daddy would say he knew, but if Frank ever tried anything Mommy should let him know. Kirsty wondered what Uncle Frank would try.

Nana rushed to Frank smiling and sniffling and threw her arms around him, and Uncle Frank turned away from Kirsty to hug Nana back. Kirsty stepped around them, and Uncle Frank's eyes, dark and shiny, followed her.

"Oh, Frank!" Nana was crying. "You poor dear, you poor, poor dear. I prayed every day for justice to be served, for you to come back to me! Thank God!"

"They set me up, Ma," Uncle Frank said, patting Nana's back. "I knew you would have faith in me. It's what sustained me. I prayed to come back to you. "

"Frank?" Daddy had come in. He squinted at Uncle Frank and set down the packages he had been carrying. Kirsty saw her opportunity, and snuck over to the bags to take a peek. What surprise had Mommy and Daddy brought her—crayons? Ice cream? A dolly? A new puppy or kitten? "My God, Frank, what the hell are you doing here?"

Daddy's voice sounded happy, but Nana's did not. "Laurence! Language! And in front of your brother who has found God! Not to mention the child!"

Kirsty stepped away from the packages so nobody would know she was peeking. But somebody did know. Uncle Frank was still looking at her, smiling his smile without showing his teeth, but then he pulled his eyes away from Kirsty. "Hello, Cynthia," he said. This time, he showed his teeth.

"Hello, Frank," Mommy said. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and was smiling like she didn't really mean it.

"Oh Frank," Nana was saying. "LOOK at your niece! Isn't she precious? Kirsty, come here and hug and kiss your Uncle Frank."

Kirsty put her hands behind her back and walked up to Uncle Frank. She did not want to hug and kiss him. "Hello, Uncle Frank," she said, looking at his dusty boots with the chains. "It's nice to meet you."

The boots got small and disappeared as Uncle Frank lifted her and pulled her to him. The smell was very strong and Kirsty wanted to sneeze. His chest was harder than Daddy's. His face was huge and the stubble looked painful.

"You heard your grandmother," he said. "Hug and kiss Uncle Frank. He's been dying to meet you."

Kirsty turned her head just in time as Uncle Frank's wet mouth pressed into her cheek. The stubble hurt, and his lips felt fatter than Daddy's. He seemed to open his mouth a little, too.

"Your turn. Kiss me," Uncle Frank put his fingers on Kirsty's other cheek and tried to turn her head. Kirsty stiffened her neck and leaned back in Frank's arms.

"Don't be cruel, Beautiful," Frank said, his knuckles running over Kirsty's cheek. They felt rough, like hangnails, and tickled in a way that made her shiver, not giggle. Her eyes met Mommy's. Mommy was coming toward them. She looked angry.

"Stop trying to force her, Frank," she said. Her voice was hard. Kirsty had never heard Mommy sound like that before, but nobody else seemed concerned.

"She's a little shy, dear," Nana said. "She'll warm up to you quick though. Just give her a little time."

"All right," Frank said. He gave Kirsty one last squeeze and then put her down. Kirsty stepped away from his strange smell, which wasn't bad or good but both. "She'd better warm up soon, though, or else I'll have to take the presents I got back to India."

"India?" Kirsty loved to say the word India. It was so pretty, and made her think of elephants and flying carpets and the genie in Aladdin's Wonderful Lamp. She looked up at Uncle Frank. "Did you bring me back a genie? Or a flying carpet?"

"You'll have to wait and see. I'll have to warm up to YOU," Uncle Frank's teeth were showing. They were white. He brushes his teeth, Kirsty thought, but doesn't wash his hands.

"Oh, Frank, I have to make up your bed!" Nana clapped her hands and rocked on her toes.

"I'll help you. Larry, watch Kirsty." Mommy and Nana went upstairs. Kirsty wondered where Uncle Frank would sleep. Would it be in the attic?

"How did you manage it, Frank?" Daddy asked, putting away the groceries. He handed Kirsty a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie. "I mean, you've been, you know…so busy…"

"A friend was watching out for me," Uncle Frank said. He watched Kirsty nibble around the edge of the chocolate chip cookie. "I actually got out a month ago. I went to pick up my stuff, and stayed with her a little bit."

Daddy rolled his eyes. "How many this month, Frank, besides her?"

"Only one, Larry."

"Kirsty, honey, why don't you get the paper and crayons out and draw a picture?"

Kirsty smiled to herself as she pulled out the paper and crayons and hoisted herself up to the kitchen table. She loved to draw so much, she sometimes fell into the colors. She felt so happy, watching the all the shades and hues eat away the white. She wished she had a piece of paper big as the world, so that beautiful blankness would never run out. Sometimes, she would forget to look and listen to the world outside of the white and the color, so grown ups would keep talking like she wasn't even there. This time, she wasn't going to forget the world around her. She was going to listen. She placed her cookie next to her, picked a red crayon, and began.

"What were you sent up for this time, Frank? Steal an apple off a fruit cart? First degree murder?"

"I was just caught with some contraband substances. Substances that will probably be as easy to get as a six pack of beer by the time the little one here is grown." Kirsty jumped when she felt fingers push through her curls and lightly touch the back of her neck. She felt Uncle Frank standing behind her. His body seemed to hum, like the little electric heater that glowed such a pretty orange, but would hurt her if she touched it. Daddy's back was turned, putting away groceries, and Kirsty felt suddenly very nervous. She needed to see Daddy's eyes.

"She's beautiful, Larry," Uncle Frank said, lifting Kirsty's hair and then letting drift back down from his hand to her back. "You must be so proud."

Kirsty broke a piece off her cookie and offered it to Uncle Frank. The cookie would make him stop touching her hair. "Do you want some, Uncle Frank?"

Uncle Frank did not take the cookie in his fingers and pop it in his mouth. Instead, he grabbed Kirsty's wrist and leaned down. He wrapped his lips around her fingers and sucked, licking the crumbs and chocolate from her fingers.

He's going to eat me, Kirsty thought. He'll swallow my whole hand. She looked into his eyes. They flicked back and forth, from her to Daddy, and then snagged her gaze. She forgot her hand in his mouth—his eyes were swallowing her whole.

Later, Uncle Frank pulled out his things from India. They were in a pretty trunk carved from a red wood. The top was flat and decorated with black and white tiles in the shape of an elephant. He had the trunk open, and Kirsty could see piles of bright fabrics and papers. A smell, stronger than roses and spicier than lavender, wafted into her nose. Like the smell of Uncle Frank, Kirsty couldn't tell if she liked this scent or not. It made her want to sneeze.

The first bit of paper and cloth Uncle Frank unwrapped revealed a little elephant, carved out of red wood, that had bits of black rock for eyes. He handed this to Kirsty, who rocked it back and forth on the carpet.

"Did you ride an elephant in India, Uncle Frank?" Kirsty asked.

"No, Beautiful," Uncle Frank said.

"He was busy riding other wildlife," Daddy said. Nana gasped and Mommy smacked Daddy on the knee.

"Oh, like tigers? Wouldn't they bite?" The grown-ups laughed. Kirsty didn't like that they were laughing at her, but the funny object made out of brass that Uncle Frank unwrapped next distracted her. It was in the shape of a flower, and had birds facing out from the center, one on each petal. The birds' tails were little mirrors. Kirsty reached for it, and Nana grabbed her hand away.

"Careful, Kirsty," Nana said. "Uncle Frank brought these all the way from India. We don't want them broken."

Uncle Frank held the flower in front of Kirsty and lifted one of the birds off the flower. The birds' necks were long and graceful, and their eyes were little diamonds. There was a tiny bowl shaped like an egg where the bird had sat.

"This is where the women in India keep their make-up," said Uncle Frank, handing the little bird to Kirsty. "Women in India are the most beautiful women in the world, besides your mother, Kirsty," Uncle Frank looked at Mommy and smiled that hidden teeth smile. He ran a hand through Kirsty's hair. "And you."

"Kirsty, come sit by me," Mommy said. "You're crowding Uncle Frank. Come here."

Kirsty wanted to keep looking in the trunk, but she did as Mommy said.

"What else do you have, Frank?" Daddy said.

Uncle Frank pulled out a rolled up piece of cloth. He unrolled the cloth to show the most beautiful ladies, each sitting on a big flower. The lady sitting on the white flower had four arms, and each hand held something—two of her hands were playing what looked like a guitar, one held a string of beads, and the other held what seemed to be a rolled up piece of paper. The middle one was on a pink flower, and was holding two flowers in two of her hands, and pouring out money with her other two. The last lady was on a blue flower, and was holding a baby that had an elephant's head.

"This is the goddess Saraswati," Uncle Frank said, pointing to the lady one the white flower. "She is the goddess of wisdom. This little scroll she's holding is a book called the Vedas. The one in the middle is Lakshmi. She's the goddess of beauty and wealth. See how she pours coins out of her hands to all the people? And the last one is Parvati, with her son, Ganesha. Her husband Shiva got very angry at Ganesha and cut off his head-"

"Frank," Mommy said.

"But not to worry, because Shiva felt very bad and gave Ganesha an elephant head, because elephants are the smartest of the animals. Guess what Ganesha rides, Kirsty?"

"A big giant tiger!"

"No, that's what his mother Parvati rides. Ganesha rides a mouse."

"A mouse? That's ridiculous! Elephants are scared of mice."

"Not Ganesha. He fears nothing, and loves sweets." Uncle Frank looked at Nana. "Where should we hang this up, Mother?"

"Oh dear…It's lovely, Frank, but in a Christian household…"

"They'll add some nice balance."

"Frank, your father would turn in his grave."

"If you don't want to keep it, I'll take it," Mommy said. "It's lovely, and I wouldn't mind picking up a book and learning more about these goddesses. It would be nice to compare them to Isis and Nephthys." Mommy and Daddy had gone to Egypt long ago.

"It's perfect for you, Cynthia. Of course, none of these goddesses can hold a candle to you," Uncle Frank rolled up the scroll and handed it to Mommy, his eyebrows raised. His eyes had that strange look they had when he took the cookie from Kirsty's hand.

"Frank, give it a rest," Daddy said, taking the scroll from Uncle Frank.

There were more things—a pillow with a tiger stitched on it, and a little statue of a monkey in a cape and crown, who Uncle Frank said was another god named Hanuman. "He was a brave and strong warrior," Uncle Frank told everyone. "He saved Lakshmi from a demon named Ravana. Guess how many heads Ravana had, Kirsty?"

"A hundred million!"

"Close. He had ten, and eighteen arms. In that story, her name was Sita, not Lakshmi."

"None of these stories are true, Kirsty," Nana said. "It is all fairy tales, no more real than Sleeping Beauty or the Seven Dwarves."

No matter what Nana said, Kirsty believed that fairies were real, and was already certain that so were the three goddesses and Hanuman, and the 10 headed Ravana. She would need to ask Uncle Frank to tell her more about them, when Nana wasn't around to spoil the fun.

Later that night, after Kirsty had brushed her teeth and was in her pajamas, and had kissed Nana goodnight, Mommy and Daddy tucked her in. She wanted Uncle Frank to tuck her in, because she wanted to know more about the tales in India. She tossed and turned. Finally, she turned on the little lamp and pulled out her paper and crayons. She sat at what used to be her grandfather's writing desk, and began to draw a picture of Hanuman, rescuing beautiful Lakshmi from the terrible Ravana.

She was drawing a giant sword for Hanuman when she smelled that funny smell that wasn't bad, but wasn't good, either, the smell that made her want to sneeze. The door opened, but she didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She turned and smiled at Uncle Frank. "Look, Uncle Frank. There's Hanuman, and he has a giant sword, and I'm going to draw Ravana and Lakshmi, too."

"It's splendid, Beautiful," Uncle Frank knelt beside her and tangled his fingers in her hair.

"Will you tell me more, Uncle Frank?"

He lifted Kirsty off the chair and positioned her on his lap, and told her about how Hanuman jumped all the way across the sea to rescue Sita, who was the goddess Lakshmi born as a human woman. And then, together, Hanuman and Rama, who was Sita's husband, chopped off all of Ravana's heads. Rama, Uncle Frank told her, was the god Vishnu, born as a human man. Kirsty drew as he talked, deciding to draw Hanuman leaping with his sword over the sea to Sita. The paper looked cramped.

Suddenly, Uncle Frank took the crayon from her hand. "I have another story to tell you, one you can see, as well as hear." He pushed Kirsty off his lap and squeezed his knees around her. He leaned back, putting a hand in his pocket.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure I can!"

"This is a secret, a sweet secret, that only you and I can know. " He gently pulled one of Kirsty's curls. "You know, I'm so excited to meet you, Kirsty. My own little niece. We'll have so much fun together." He pulled Kirsty's curl again, a little harder this time. "I have so many things to teach you. So many things to show you." His knees tightened around Kirsty's middle. "Things your daddy can't even imagine."

"Scary things?"

"To your daddy, maybe, but not to you. I can already tell. You're like me. You're not afraid of anything. You're fun." He leaned forward. "Do your mommy and daddy tell you there are things you can't do?"

"Yeah, all the time! Nana too. She tells me things aren't real and she won't let me draw monsters and ghosts, and Mommy and Daddy made me go to bed before you got to tell me the stories."

"Beautiful," Uncle Frank cupped her face in his hands. "When you're with me, you can draw whatever you want, and I will never tell you anything isn't real. I will show you that anything is possible. I will prove it to you. Nothing is forbidden with me."

"Forbidden?"

"There's nothing you and I can't do, nothing forbidden to us. We can take whatever we want."

Kirsty's mind swam. She could stay up late with Uncle Frank and watch monster movies. They would eat ice cream, and she could say naughty words like "damn," "ass," and "crap."

Uncle Frank pulled something out of his pocket. It balanced in the palm of his hand.

Kirsty couldn't understand. At first it looked like just a white blob in Uncle Frank's hand, but then she saw the breasts, and the parts Mommy told her about, that she and Daddy used to make her. These parts had hair, and the part that Mommy told her Daddy had was going into the woman, inside her body. The man part was long and thin and was pushing into the woman, and his hand was squeezing the woman's breast. The centers of the breasts—Kirsty forgot what they were called—were like eyes staring directly at Kirsty, shaming her.

"Do you know what they're doing, Beautiful?" Uncle Frank's other hand reached around and stroked her face, her neck. "They're making love. You see the man's penis? That's what that's called. It's what I have. It goes inside the woman. Two become one. It feels good, Beautiful. Like Heaven."

Kirsty couldn't move, even if Uncle Frank's knees weren't squeezing tighter and tighter. She saw that the man and the women were kissing, and she saw their tongues, going into each other's mouths. This made her stomach twist in sick disgust just as much as the genitals did.

"What's wrong with you? Are you afraid?" Uncle Frank's hand fisted in her curls. "Was I wrong to show you this? Was I wrong to trust you?" He pulled her hair, slowly, forcing her to look at him. "I guess you're not brave after all. I guess you want to be like your Nana, and be afraid of everything."

"No, I'm not like that! I'm not afraid."

"You're no fun, are you?" He sneered. "You'll never go on any adventures, never be like Hanuman or Lakshmi."

"No, I will! I can! I just need to look at it again!"

He lifted it to her eyes. It lay there, in his hand, an unchanging fact, no matter how many times she blinked. Once, it seemed as if it was writhing in Uncle Frank's palm, but then it stopped.

"Will it hurt?" She whispered. She was certain that the stone would come alive again at any minute, and this time stay alive. The man and the woman would spread their lips to reveal mouths full of fangs, and bite her.

"Oh, Kirsty," Uncle Frank rubbed her bare arm. "Sometimes the hurt is where the Heaven is."

"What?"

"You'll see," Uncle Frank put the figurine back in his pocket. He lifted Kirsty up and carried her back to bed. "Life is full of riddles. It's a puzzle. I want to solve that puzzle, Kirsty." He pulled the covers up to Kirsty's chin, and then sat at the edge of her bed, looking down at her. His eyes made Kirsty want to squirm deeper under her blanket, but she stopped herself. She didn't want Uncle Frank to accuse her of not being fun.

"My little Alice in Wonderland," he said. "Soon, you'll enjoy the puzzles as much as I do." He stroked Kirsty's cheek with his knuckles. He smiled, a smile that exposed his teeth and narrowed his eyes. "Sweet dreams, my sweet. Now kiss me, and sweeten my dreams."

Kirsty pulled herself up and leaned in to kiss Uncle Frank's cheek. His cheek was rough and oily. When she pulled away, he turned his head, and kissed her lips. His mouth was dry and hot with cigarettes and liquor. He turned off the light and shut the door behind him.

Kirsty dreamed that night of monsters made of men and women, their tongues twisting and spiraling around each other. The women parts were bigger than Kirsty and opened and closed with wet slaps. The men parts were the size of trees and poked at Kirsty while she backed helplessly against a wall. The men and the women were laughing at her, their faces like Uncle Frank's when stroked her cheek, vampiric, predatory faces.

Then, all was dark and quiet. The men and women vanished, like a vacuum sucked them up. The room she was in was cool, and very still.

A white shape came out of the darkness. The shape blinked, and she realized it was a face. The face had pins and needles sticking out of it, but it wasn't crying. The head it belonged to was bald. Its skin was white as paper.

The face regarded her with shiny black eyes.

She heard the ringing of a giant bell.

Then the room was gone.

She heard a victory cry, and turned to see Hanuman leap toward her over a sparkling blue sea. He wrapped his strong, furry arms around her, and she woke up.

In five minutes, she had forgotten everything about the dream but Hanuman.

The next morning, Mommy dressed Kirsty up in her new pink sundress and matching pink hat.

"Oh, Darling. You're a little rosebud!"

Kirsty twirled in front of the mirror. She did feel awful pretty.

When Kirsty and Mommy went downstairs for pancakes, Daddy said that Kirsty was the cutest thing in the world, and Nana said she was a little angel.

Uncle Frank came down late, after Nana yelled up at him three times. His hair was damp and his eyes were pink. He was wearing the clothes he had worn the night before, and he had a towel around his neck. Kirsty was worried he would pull out the statue and show it to everybody. It would kill Nana, she was sure. It would make Mommy sick.

"We need to get you new clothes, Frank," Nana said. She patted Frank's curly hair. "Maybe we'll get you a haircut, too."

Frank waved her away. "Don't bother."

"We're going to take the train today, Frank!"

Frank shoveled pancakes into his mouth, using his fingers and his fork. "What do you want me to do about it, Ma?"

Kirsty had never heard anyone talk to his mother like that before. She had never seen anybody be so scornful of the train, either. The train was wonderful.

"Well, Frank, we were hoping we would all go, as a family," Nana sat down next to Uncle Frank and looked up at him, like she was a little girl and he was the grown-up.

"Yeah, Frank, it'll be fun," Daddy said.

Mommy didn't say anything.

"Please, Frank," Nana said. She sounded like she might cry. "Do it for me."

Uncle Frank rolled his eyes. "I believe I've done enough." A bit of syrup stuck to the stubble on his chin.

"What do you mean, Frank?" Nana was going to cry. "I haven't seen you in so long!"

Uncle Frank glared at Nana. "Mother dear, I went straight from India to jail. I can't tell you which is worse—the heat in New Delhi, or the stench in prison. I come bearing gifts. What more do you need? Really, what the—"

"I'll buy you some drinks, Frank," Daddy said. "And some new clothes. We'll get the booze while the girls shop. It's all my treat."

Daddy really wanted Frank to go. Kirsty could tell. She didn't want Nana and Daddy to feel sad.

"Please, Uncle Frank," she said. "Please come with us."

Uncle Frank turned his reddish eyes on her. Those eyes, those dark, wet eyes, and high bones of his face, looked very strange to Kirsty. Uncle Frank looked sick, or like a monster she dreamed of once who could pull off his skin.

"Your Daddy had me at 'I'll buy you some drinks,'" he wiped his mouth on his bare arm. "Just give me a few minutes to freshen up."

Kirsty skipped ahead while they walked downtown to the Puffer Belly Station, playing hopscotch with the shadows cast by the trees. She stopped frequently to look in windows. She looked the longest at the toy store. In there was a stuffed monkey with Velcro paws and long arms she could loop around her neck—she knew because she had tried. She could wear the monkey all day. She was going to call him Hanuman. She decided right then and there.

"Kirsty," Uncle Frank had walked ahead. He stood in front of a restaurant's window box. Kirsty knew that restaurant. They had delicious cake and they put extra cherries in her Shirley Temple. Their window box had little cut outs of hearts and stars. Right now, it was full of pink and white daisies. Uncle Frank plucked a pink and a white, even though it was against the rules. He went to Kirsty and tucked the daisies into the ribbon on her hat.

"A beauty for a beauty," he said.

Kirsty took off her hat and looked at the daisy. She smelled it and ran her fingertips over its petals, softly. She smiled up at Uncle Frank. He felt sorry for the statue, she supposed. He was being so kind now, and smiled at her so big, she could believe that that didn't happen.

He scooped Kirsty up and put her on his shoulders. His hands gripped her tightly, but didn't stay in one place. He held her ankles, but then his hands went to her wrists, then her knees, then her ankles again. It was almost as if he couldn't get a good enough grip.

"Look at that," Kirsty heard Nana say to Mommy. "Leave it to that lovely little child to melt my Frank's heart. He needs one of his own."

"Well, he does look genuinely happy," Mommy admitted. "He's noticing the beauty of his surroundings. It looks like your little boy could be mellowing out."

When they got to the station, Uncle Frank got Kirsty a candy bar, her favorite, the kind with the caramel that was flow-y, not thick and blocky. Mommy took it to save for later. Nana thanked Uncle Frank for getting Kirsty the chocolate even more than Kirsty did.

From Uncle Frank's shoulders, Kirsty could touch the train from the platform. She stroked its bright red side and ran her finger along the gold lines that spelled out "Puffer Belly."

"There's a long tunnel we have to go through before we get to the next town," Kirsty said.

"Are you scared?" Uncle Frank's voice was quiet. He stroked her bare calf. It tickled.

"No. That's my favorite part."

"Do you like dark places?"

"Not really. It just goes faster in the tunnel. Stop that!" Uncle Frank's fingers had worked their way into her sandal and were tickling her feet. She kicked at him, but then felt bad. He had bought her that candy bar and had given her the daisies.

"I'm sorry."

Uncle Frank didn't seem upset at all. "It's good to know you're ticklish. I'll have to remember your weak spots."

When they got on the train, Kirsty showed Uncle Frank the cubbies where people put their things, even their pets, and was delighted that there was a tiny dog in a carrier to prove it. Then she showed him the little bathroom where you pulled a cord to flush the toilet, and the space between the train cars. "When you walk while the train is moving, it wiggles under your feet," she explained.

The cars' passengers sat in groups of six seats, three facing forward, and three facing backward. When they sat down, Mommy and Daddy sat on one side with Nana, and Frank sat on the other, with Kirsty. Kirsty reminded Uncle Frank to look out the window, and showed him how to close the curtain that hid each group of seats from view. She pointed out the seats were red and made out of velvet. Then she took her usual train position—kneeling on the seat and pressing her face to the window. She loved to watch the world zipping by. It looked like when her watercolors smeared. If she craned her neck just so, she could just see the tunnel, first as an itty-bitty dot, but then it got bigger and bigger until it swallowed them all up.

The tunnel was just about to swallow them when she was pulled from the window and into a lap. At first, she thought it was Daddy pulling her away, but then she smelled that scent of glass bottles sipped by Mommy and Daddy at night, and burning cigarettes, and felt his stubble against her forehead. The tunnel swallowed them and a hand covered her mouth.

Under the roar of the engine Kirsty heard Frank whispering to her, but she couldn't understand what he was saying. His words were strange. His breath was hot, his chest was hot, his hand was hot as it went up her leg. It disappeared under her dress. She could feel it hot and rough between her legs, in the private place. Daddy never even touched her there. Only Mommy did, when she gave Kirsty a bath, and not even that anymore that much, because Kirsty was growing up.

The train rocked back and forth, and Kirsty rocked back and forth on the hand. Uncle Frank's sweaty palm pressed into her mouth. His fingers pressed between her legs. She tried to squirm away, but he was made of stone. She couldn't pull his hand from her mouth.

She remembered when she was playing at school and bonked her nose on the monkey bars, how the pain blinded and choked her with her own tears. She remembered when she was pulling off her jacket and hit her elbow, hard, on the kitchen table—it felt like a firecracker had gone off in her arm. Both of these feelings combined in the place where Uncle Frank was pushing and rubbing through her panties. The smell of tobacco and salt-sweat on his fingers made her feel faint and sick. In the darkness, and the speed, she felt herself being obliterated. Her feet and hands drifted away, and then her legs and arms, little by little. Her mind raced to keep itself focused, to keep all her body parts together.

Suddenly, it all went away. The rushing of the train, the heat, the hands—they were all gone. It was now just her, sitting in a cool, dark room.

A man was there. He wore strange black clothes with squares cut out of them. The clothes were as shiny as his eyes. His skin was white as fresh paper. The strangest thing about him, though, was the fact that his face was covered in pins and needles, and he wasn't crying.

She wanted to ask the man why he wasn't crying, when pins and needles hurt, when he spoke to her.

"It can't be," he said. His voice was deep and buzzing, and scared Kirsty more than his spiky white skin. "But then…stranger things…."

Kirsty was blinded by sunlight and normalcy. She rubbed her eyes. She was on Uncle Frank's lap, and his hands were where hands should be: clasped and at rest on her lap, on top of her dress. They had come out of the tunnel. Nana and Mommy and Daddy were all looking at her with too-happy faces, and for a moment she despised them. She felt exhausted and drained, like she had been taken apart and put back together, but with pieces in the wrong places. She felt chafed and poked. She squirmed off of Uncle Frank's lap and climbed into her mother's.

"Oh, honey," Daddy said. "Did you take a little cat nap?"

Kirsty nodded, inhaling her mother's freesia scent, and exhaling the nightmare. Yes. That's what happened. She dozed off. She didn't remember feeling tired, but that was no matter. She fell asleep, and had a nightmare.

"She just went limp in my arms," she heard Uncle Frank say.

"The motion of the train is soothing," Nana said.

The rest of the day was happy and bright, and Kirsty felt warm with Nana and Mommy. Everybody had dinner together, and Frank sat between Nana and Mommy, across from Daddy. Then Kirsty got a bath and went to bed. She felt a pleasant sleepiness, and dozed off right away.

She woke up later to a very quiet, dark house and a very full bladder. She turned on her little lamp to be a beacon to guide her back to her bedroom, and tiptoed down the hall. She finished, and, yawning, made her way back to her room.

"Pssst, Kirsty," a voice said over her head. She looked up. Uncle Frank was leaning over the banister, looking down at her.

"Come up here, Beautiful."

Kirsty hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, one foot on the step.

"Come to Daddy."

"You're not my Daddy, silly."

"We're playing a game. Whenever it's just you and me, I'll be your Daddy."

"That's all? That's not much of a game."

"Come up. I have someone I want you to meet."

"Is it a statue, again?"

"No, but if you'd like, you can look at it again."

Kirsty stopped on the third stair. She did not want to see the statue again.

"Come on, you'll really like it. Come on. Come to Daddy."

Kirsty remembered something scary had happened in the tunnel. She didn't remember what, precisely, but she knew Uncle Frank had been there.

"It's really late. I'll get in trouble if I'm up."

"Nobody will ever know. Here. Wait there." Uncle Frank disappeared into his room. Kirsty shivered, alone on the stair. When Uncle Frank came back, he had something large and fluffy in his arms. The light from his bedroom showed one half of the creature, one brown button eye, one up-curve of a sewn on grin.

"Hanuman!" Kirsty slapped a hand over her mouth, but she didn't hear anybody waking up. Uncle Frank took one sideways step.

"You have to play with him in here," he said. "He wants to play with you."

Kirsty went up toward Hanuman, step by step. Uncle Frank eased back into his room, inch-by-inch.

"C'mon, Beautiful. Daddy wants to play with you, too. Come, come to him, come."

The door closed behind Kirsty.

Uncle Frank left the next morning.

The day after that, it hurt Kirsty to pee. She couldn't hold it, either, and she would wake up in the night with the hot poison liquid seeping from her into the sheets. She would lean against her head against the bathroom wall and sob and scream. It burned and stung, like when she was stung by a hornet. When she wiped there were little pink spots on the paper.

Mommy took Kirsty to the doctor. The doctor gave her two pills—one was to kill the germs, and the other turned her pee bright orange.

"Make sure she wipes from front to back," the doctor told Mommy. "It's not uncommon for little girls this age to forget."

"She's wetting the bed," Mommy told the doctor. Kirsty blushed. "She wakes up screaming."

"Probably a side effect of the UTI. Antibiotics should clear that right up. Don't be alarmed by the color of her urine for the next couple days; that's the pain killer. Once that kicks in she won't wake up screaming."

Kirsty clutched Hanuman tightly, curling around him. The lower part of her tummy burned. She rocked back and forth.

"Is there anything else that could cause this, besides not wiping correctly?" Mommy was staring hard at the doctor.

"Nine times out of ten, it's not wiping correctly."

"What's the one time out of ten?"

"Well, there's a condition called bladder exstrophy, which causes patients to be susceptible, because the bladder is exposed. Playing in the dirt without underpants…"

"Could someone have….given this to her?"

The doctor was quiet for a moment. "Is there any reason for you to suspect someone doing such a thing, Mrs. Cotton?"

Kirsty looked at Mommy's hands. They were clenching and unclenching around her purse strap. "I'm probably just being over-protective."

"If you suspect anything like that, I need to call the police, Mrs. Cotton. Inquiries will have to be made. Everyone will have to be questioned."

"No! I'm just a rather zealous mother. I want to know all the causes for everything. I'll make sure she wipes front to back from now on."

Mommy held Kirsty tightly all the way to the car. Hanuman dangled from Kirsty's hand. She was never going to let him go. He had made her feel safe when Uncle Frank had put her back to bed. He was warm and soft.

Mommy fastened Kirsty in, and then sat next to her in the backseat.

"Kirsty," she said. "Darling, I need you to tell me something, okay? And it has to be the truth."

"Yes, Mommy."

Mommy chewed on her thumbnail. She was very, very nervous.

"Kirsty, did Uncle Frank do anything, did he do anything to you?"

Kirsty went stiff. What was she going to do now?

"I mean…Were you ever alone with him?"

"No, Mommy."

"Kirsty, when did he give you that monkey doll?"

Kirsty had been scared that she would forget what Uncle Frank told her to say. Now, she knew she would always remember. "I told you, the day he left. It was on my bed."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mommy, I'm sure."

"Please, please tell me, Kirsty. You don't have to be afraid. No matter what, you can tell me."

She smiled at Mommy. "Mommy, I'm not scared."

Mommy cupped Kirsty's cheeks, gently. "You're not scared of your Uncle Frank?"

"No, I like him. I like him a lot."

Mommy's eyes were sad and worried. She hugged Kirsty. "Okay," she whispered.

After she had moved up front and started the car, Mommy murmured, "I'm probably hysterical."

Kirsty leaned back, her bladder throbbing dully. She had said what Uncle Frank had told her to say. He wouldn't come get her now, with that knife, and kill them both to keep them from going to jail. He couldn't let her go to jail, he had told her. He loved her too much to see her go through that. Jail was so bad it was better to die.

This was the worst pain she had ever been through. She wondered how jail could be any worse.


	2. Hades

All characters belong to Clive Barker (*insert twitterpated sigh*)

Hades

Nana was very sick. She had a heart problem and something that sounded like ammonia. If it was anything like ammonia, it must be very painful, Kirsty thought. Nana's chest rattled like it was hard for her to breathe, but she still held Kirsty's hand and smiled at her. Kirsty would crawl next to her on the bed and read to her from _Winnie the Pooh, When We Were Very Young, _and _Now We are Six. _ Nana helped Kirsty when she had trouble with a word. Nana's knobby finger, which was the color and texture of the Kewpie doll she had that Kirsty never thought was very cute, would hover, trembling, over the word, and it would remind Kirsty to slow down and sound it out.

This didn't happen very often, though. Kirsty was a pretty good reader, and an even better drawer. She would sit in a chair at the foot of Nana's hospital bed whenever Daddy told her to "get out from underfoot," and draw with the notebook and markers she carried around everywhere with her. She never complained that she was tired or hungry or bored. She was practically seven years old, practically a grown-up herself. She even knew how to use the big vending machine in the hallway without help.

She drew sea urchins, mostly. She would start drawing a castle or a dog, but then her hand would start drawing the sea urchins. Spiky ovals peered out with black dot eyes from behind her flowers, fairies, and monkeys. The sea urchins made her feel uneasy. She never meant to draw them, but she would look at her pictures and there they were. She felt that they were looking at her, and that if she touched one on the paper, it would stick her.

Nana was sound asleep. Mommy was talking to a nurse, and Daddy was at the front desk because somebody had called the hospital, looking for him. When he came back, one of his nostrils was lifted, a sign he was mad.

"Larry, what is it?" Mommy asked.

"Frank's on his way." Daddy's hands were fists. "The prodigal son returns to make sure he gets into Mom's good graces before she dies."

"Would you expect anything less?"

Kirsty stared at the sea urchins on her paper, and they stared hard back at her. The fingers resting on her paper and clutching her pen sweated.

"He'll be here in fifteen minutes. Cynthia, promise me you won't let me punch him in the face. Not for his sake, but for the old lady's."

"You can count on me."

Kirsty suddenly had to go to the bathroom. Hearing Uncle Frank's name made her legs want to run away.

The bathroom's walls were nice and cool on her sweaty hands and cheeks. Her knees were shaking. She couldn't bring herself to enter a stall.

She clutched herself through her jumper and squeezed her thighs together. The urge didn't go away.

_ What's wrong with you?_ She asked herself. _You're being stupid. Just pee_.

She went to the sink and turned the handle on the faucet. Water hissed and glugged down the drain. The sound was excruciating.

She locked herself in a stall door and lowered her underwear. She felt the Train feeling—the feeling she had when she knew something bad was going to happen. The feeling came from nightmares she had about being in a train car. It was tar inside the train—that dark, that hot. Kirsty was hiding from something horrible, something that could see in the black. The ground was speeding away beneath her feet, toward something that would swallow her alive, something very hungry.

_ That was just a silly dream. Mommy and Daddy said so. If you pee, it won't hurt. _

Finally the rushing water worked its magic and she released. There was no fire. There was no blood.

She washed her hands and stared into her own brown eyes, which looked back at her from the mirror. The florescent lighting made the stray strands of her wavy hair look white.

People told Kirsty she was pretty. She thought she was ordinary, whenever she thought of it. It made her happier to be told her art was pretty, or when someone thanked her for doing something nice. Being told she was pretty made her face hot, and when her face was hot she wanted to hide.

Her face was hot now.

She went back to Nana's room. She looked down at the maroon stripe edging the gray carpet. She took little steps, heel to toe, heel to toe, and tried not to tip over. She had a tendency to trip. She could be an awfully clumsy girl.

She felt prickly heat on the backs of her knees underneath her tights, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. There was someone or something behind her, in the dim hallway. She knew it. She felt a strange humming against her back. Whoever, or whatever, it was, it was getting closer.

She sprinted the twenty feet to Nana's room and almost tripped when turning into it from the hallway. She buried her face in the closest adult's stomach. It turned out to be Daddy's. He smelled like woodsy cologne.

"Kirsty, don't run around in here." Daddy sounded very tired, but he patted her hair. "What are you running around for, anyway?"

"There's something in the hallway," Kirsty whispered to the buttons on his blue shirt.

"What, honey?" Daddy suddenly stopped stroking her hair. Kirsty felt that humming prickle. "Nice of you to show up, Frank."

"Fuck off, Larry. She's my mother, too."

"And where were you when she started going downhill, huh Frank?" Daddy unwrapped Kirsty's arms from around his middle and stepped around her. Kirsty, for a few desperate seconds, looked for Mommy. She threw her arms around Mommy's waist. "Where were you when she was crying and pissing on herself?"

"Both of you, knock it off! If neither of you can behave yourselves, I'll have you both thrown out." Mommy's fingers locked behind Kirsty's head, making Kirsty feel safe.

"I'm sorry, Cynthia," Daddy sounded ashamed.

From the corner of her eye, Kirsty watched as Uncle Frank appeared at the side of Nana's bed. He took one of Nana's hands in his. Kirsty thought of how dirty his hands were, and thought about how they could wash Nana's hands after he let go.

Uncle Frank touched Nana's face. "Ma? Ma. I'm here. It's Frank. Your son Frank." He gently shook Nana's shoulder. "Ma? I came to see you."

Nana's eyes fluttered open, and she smacked her lips. "Frank?" Her voice croaked, so Frank sounded like "Fer-ank."

"Yeah, Ma. It's me. How are you feeling?"

Nana smiled weakly. "I'm just fine, dear. Don't you worry about me." She raised her other hand and rested it, gently, on Uncle Frank's leather jacketed arm. "You seem so thin, though, Frank, so very thin…" Nana's chin wobbled. "Oh, my baby darling, where have you been?"

"Oh, Ma, please don't do that."

"I was scared you were dead." Tears rolled down Nana's wrinkled gray cheeks, once so plump and pink, and into the folds of her neck. "That's when I started having trouble, Frankie. When I began to think I would never see you again. It broke my heart." She touched Uncle Frank's stubble. "You're here. You're really here. Now I can get well again. I know it."

"Sure, Ma. You sure will."

"Now that you're here." The hand that was stroking Frank's cheek drifted down to cover the hand holding hers. She closed her eyes. "He's here. Frank's here," she whispered. Her mouth went loose again.

"Got her on some pretty heavy shit, don't you brother?" This sounded very funny to Uncle Frank.

"Get out," Daddy hissed. "Get out of here, you scum sucking fuck."

Nana's eyes snapped open. "Laurence, no!"

"Ma, I'm tired of this! He can't treat you like this! I won't allow it!" Daddy sounded like he was about to cry.

"Oh, my Larry, please don't send my Frank away! Don't send him away!"

Mommy leaned down and put her hands on Kirsty's shoulders, looking her in the eye. "Kirsty, honey, go outside. Go to the room with the little TV and the books, and wait there."

Kirsty left, but then crouched just outside the door.

"Shhh, Larry, Larry, Larry," Mommy was soothing. "Take a deep breath. Why don't we…"

"I'm not leaving her with him. I will not leave her with him."

"What Larry, you think I'll put a pillow over my own mother's face?"

"I wouldn't put it past you."

Nana's sobs came in waves to Kirsty's ears.

"Frank, it's late," Mommy said. "You've no doubt traveled a long way, and you must be exhausted. Why don't we put you up in a hotel for the night?"

Kirsty watched Uncle Frank look at Mommy. His face was dark and still. His eyes were shiny. "Larry," he said, even though he was looking at Mommy, "I'm sorry. I really am. I've been a complete shit." He pinched his bottom lip and then brought his hand back down to Nana's. "I've made some money while I've been gone. I will pay you to stay at your place. I need to talk to you, Larry. We have a lot to catch up on."

"He loves you, Larry. He loves you," Nana cried.

Daddy snorted.

"Here." Uncle Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He pulled some money out of the wallet and handed it to Daddy. "Take it."

Daddy looked from Uncle Frank to the money and back again. "You stole that."

Nana whimpered.

"Larry, remember when we were kids and we wanted to buy a race horse? It was one of our big plans?" Uncle Frank reached into his wallet again and pulled out a picture. "This is Poseidon's Daughter. She's a prize filly, and she's won two races, one at $700, and another for five. I'm one-third owner, and I'm planning to buy the other two out." Frank's eyes looked at Daddy, big and pleading. "Please, Larry. Stay here with me for a little while longer, and then we can go back to your place together. I'll pay you and Cynthia. Please. It'll make Ma happy."

There was silence, and then Nana said, "Larry, I beg you."

Daddy sighed.

"Larry, you promised," Nana started to cry again.

"Okay, Ma. Okay," Kirsty could barely hear Daddy. "He can stay. He can stay."

"Laurence," Nana's voice was smiling again. "My good boy. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Let me say goodnight to little Kirsty. It's late."

"I'll go get her," Uncle Frank's voice was too loud now, after the hush. Kirsty heard him getting up from his chair.

"No, I'll get her. You stay with your mother, Frank." Mommy's feet moved toward the door. Kirsty jumped up and ran down the hall.

"Kirsty? What are you doing in the hallway?"

"I went to the vending machine, Mommy."

"We'll get you a candy bar on the way out, sweetheart. Come say goodnight to Nana."

Kirsty felt short of breath as she walked into the room. She felt Uncle Frank's eyes on her as she kissed Nana good night on her cold, gray cheek.

"Sweet dreams, Nana. Don't let the bedbugs bite. I love you."

"Good night, Darling. I love you to pieces." Nana pulled Kirsty's face down to hers, like she wanted to tell her a secret. Kirsty let her hair make a curtain around them.

"Be extra sweet to Uncle Frank, Kirsty. You make him so happy, and he's so sweet on you."

"Yes, Nana. I will."

"That's my girl." Nana's eyes closed again.

Kirsty took Mommy's hand. Daddy walked ahead, his fists swinging heavy. She glanced back at Uncle Frank. He lowered his head and smiled at her, slowly, with hot, wet eyes.

That night Uncle Frank went away. When Kirsty heard his motor growl, and then roar, and then scream, she took that as the signal to roll over onto her side, close her eyes, and go to sleep.

The day after Uncle Frank came was warm for the first time in a long while. The fact that it was Saturday made it that much better. Kirsty decided she would play outside while Mommy and Daddy got the room downstairs ready for Nana to come stay with them. Kirsty had spent a few days drawing Nana pictures for the walls, turning sea urchins into suns, stars, smiling faces, and flowers. Uncle Frank was still asleep.

"Lazy piece of shit and his crocodile tears," Kirsty overheard Daddy say.

"You know him. He won't stick around. He'll take off, and this will all be over," Mommy said.

"If I hadn't promised my mother…" Kirsty walked away to get dressed, hearing Mommy's soothing voice, but not the words.

Kirsty put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the first time in what felt like years. She skipped outside to the four huge rocks arranged around the garden. The lava rocks were like giant pieces of seafoam candy, only blue-black, and so rough if Kirsty rubbed one, it felt like it was full of pins and needles, not little holes.

She carefully put one foot on one of the rocks, and then took it off. She placed her foot back on, took a deep breath, and lifted herself onto the rock. She stood there, arms wide, and stared at her feet in their pink sandals. They were steady.

She inched toward the edge of the rock, eyeing the next stone. It wasn't so far away. She reached out and tapped it with her toe. One big step, and she was there.

She went back and forth between the two until she realized she wasn't just stepping, but jumping. She looked at the third rock. She jumped.

For one horrible second she was aware she was going to fall, and then she was falling. Her right knee landed hard on the rock.

_When the hurt comes, it will kill me_, Kirsty thought as she tipped crazily off the rock and onto the grass.

It didn't kill her. It just put her in a hot, red, raw world where she was blind. The gouges and punctures in her knee were a million hornets, a hundred million pins and needles

(_A flash of white face and black eyes) _

thousands of tiny teeth snapping deep into her skin.

The clouds came closer through the deluge of tears. Someone was lifting her up. Mommy or Daddy had found her.

She leaned into the strong shoulder and pressed her face into the warm neck. "Daddy," she sobbed.

"Yes, Beautiful, it's Daddy."

She was being carried around the big pin oak tree on the other side of the yard. Daddy sat down, with her in his lap. He tucked her head under his chin, and pressed her into his chest.

Kirsty panted through the pain. She felt the stubble pressing into her cheek, smelled that odd, sneezy smell, and trembled. Uncle Frank's body was hot and familiar. She gulped. She should have known. Daddy never called her "Beautiful."

"Look what you've done to yourself," Uncle Frank's hand waved over her knee. It was oozing blood from a small pit in the skin. Uncle Frank sounded like he was smiling. "Breathe it in. Pretend you're swimming through it. "

Kirsty breathed deep and whimpered.

"Look how red your blood is, how thick. It's like mine. You're strong."

Kirsty jiggled her leg. The air itself was made up of tiny wasps. "Where's my Mommy? Where's Daddy?"

"Those people are vacuuming and dusting like good little house spouses. Forget about them, Kirsty. Look at me. Look at Daddy." Uncle Frank raised his chin to free Kirsty's head, and then raised her face so she was looking into his dark eyes. "Remember the last time I was here? I bet you do."

"No."

"You remember. I gave you Hanuman, your monkey." Uncle Frank stroked Kirsty's cheek. Kirsty squirmed, and Uncle Frank wrapped his arms around her tightly. He stared into her eyes. Kirsty noticed his eyes were a reddish brown, with hints of black. They were looking at her with an almost kindness.

"I told you the story of Sita and Hanuman. Now, I'm going to tell you about Hades and Persephone. Persephone is why we have a beautiful day today, and why it's so cold and dark in winter." He cuddled Kirsty closer. "Once, it was beautiful like this every day. It was never cold, and when it rained, it was soft and warm. That's because Demeter, the goddess of the Earth, was very happy. She had a beautiful little girl named Persephone, who had long, wavy brown hair," he stroked Kirsty's hair, "and big brown eyes," he ran his fingertips over Kirsty's eyelids, very gently, "and a smile full of stars and sunshine," he ran his fingertips over Kirsty's lips. "Persephone loved to play outside. She loved to leap on the rocks and dance in the flowers."

"How old was she, Uncle Frank?"

"Just about seven. "

"Did she like to draw?"

"Of course! All the best, most beautiful girls do. So, one day, Persephone was painting portraits of the flowers in the meadow. They all lined up so she could paint their portrait. She had just put the finishing touches on the daisies when, all of a sudden…" Uncle Frank paused.

"What? What happened?

"There was an earthquake. Persephone screamed for her mother to help, because she knew her mother could stop it. But it wasn't an earthquake. A fiery chariot pulled by four black horses and a three-headed dog was rumbling up from the center of the earth. It burst out of the dirt right next to Persephone."

"A three-headed dog? I think I might have tried to pet it."

"That's because you're brave as well as beautiful. I bet you would have stepped right into Hades' chariot to go on an adventure."

"Hades is hell."

"Hades is the god of the underworld. He owns all the riches on the planet, because they are all underground. The dead call him their king."

"King of the dead." Kirsty saw Hades in her mind. He had a crown. It was made out of pins.

"Did he have black eyes?"

"He had one black eye, and one red eye, and thick, black hair. He was so handsome."

"Did he have a crown made out of pins?"

"No. Where'd you get that idea?"

Kirsty shrugged.

"That's interesting, and rather exciting." Uncle Frank sincerely meant this. "Now, Hades was in love with Persephone. He wanted her for himself. So, he grabbed her up, put her on his knee, and they all dove down to the Underworld."

"I bet she tried to get away."

"She might have, but she wouldn't have gotten very far," Uncle Frank sounded rather pleased with that fact. "She saw the Underworld, and it was dark and gloomy, but full of precious jewels—diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds. Because she was so beautiful, all the dead loved her, and wanted her to be their queen."

"I bet she didn't want to be the queen."

"Don't be so sure. Up on Earth, meanwhile, Demeter, Persephone's mother, was so upset that she stopped doing her duties as goddess of the earth. The ground went cold, and nothing grew. People were starving. Demeter didn't care. She just walked all over the world, looking for Persephone."

"Did she find her?"

"Yes. Eventually, the witch goddess Hecate told her that Persephone was with Hades, and took her to the Underworld. But Persephone couldn't just go back to Earth forever and ever."

"Why? Demeter is her mommy!"

"Because she had eaten of the Underworld's fruit. That meant that half of her belonged to Hades. And so, half the year she stays with him, and it is winter, because Demeter misses her daughter. And half the year she stays with her mother, and we have spring and summer."

Kirsty thought about this. It didn't seem fair. Hades had no right to take someone's little girl and keep her for half the year.

"I don't like Hades," she said.

Uncle Frank grinned. "How can you say that? He gave Persephone a kingdom."

"But he took her away!" Kirsty felt like crying.

"Well, there's one very important thing that I have to tell you, Beautiful." He tipped Kirsty's face up to look at him. He leaned close to whisper.

"Hades was Persephone's _uncle_."

He laughed, a cruel sound that made Kirsty shiver. She didn't even realize that Uncle Frank was leaning in even closer. He brought his lips to hers, and, before Kirsty could understand what he was going to do, his tongue was in her mouth. Uncle Frank's tongue was a thick slab of meat. His saliva was cold on her lips and sour in her throat.

Kirsty wanted to squirm, but she knew that would make Uncle Frank very angry. She remembered the last time he was angry. She had buried her face in Hanuman's fur, because she wanted to hide. Uncle Frank had grabbed her by her face so hard the inside of her cheeks ground into her teeth. She had closed her eyes, but then his thumbs dug under her cheekbones. "LOOK at me," he had said. He hadn't yelled; in fact, he had whispered, but he still made Kirsty cry.

His tongue was rubbing her teeth. Soon, his face would scrunch up, and those eyes would turn into shiny black slits, and he would hiss and growl. That's what had happened the night Uncle Frank had given her Hanuman. She had gripped the snake belt, and Uncle Frank had moved like a snake, like the ocean Hanuman leapt over to get to Ravana's island.

Uncle Frank sucked Kirsty's tongue into his mouth. Kirsty yelped, and he chuckled, pulling back to study her face still gripped in his fingers. Then the chuckle left his face and he turned to look around the tree in the direction of the house.

_Mommy, Daddy, where are you? _

Satisfied, Uncle Frank turned back to Kirsty.

"We were going to rescue Sita," she said in a little voice.

Uncle Frank smiled at her. It was not unkind.

"I lied to Mommy." Fresh tears burned the tender folds of Kirsty's eyelids. Uncle Frank lifted her hurt leg at the knee and folded it up to her chest, hugging it tightly. Fresh blood broke from the bounds of the wound.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does! It does matter."

"No, it doesn't." He finally stopped staring into Kirsty's eyes to stare at her blood. "Because, when you and I play, there are no other people in the world I make for you. You are my Persephone, and I will give you both Heaven and Hell." He looked back into her eyes with his hard, bright ones. "My little queen," he whispered.

Never taking his eyes off of Kirsty's, he lifted her hurt knee to his face. He lowered his head, like Mommy kissing a hurt place. She felt his breath stirring in the wound on her knee. His tongue rolled from his mouth, and he lapped up the blood running and congealing down her shin.

_Vampire._ But hadn't Kirsty herself tasted her own blood? Hadn't she herself picked at scabs just to see all the different shades of red, and then sucked up the little beads of salt that her nails brought to the surface?

"Sweet," Uncle Frank breathed. He sighed. "So, so sweet."


	3. Uncle Frank's First Love

All characters owned by Clive Barker. By the way, did you guys know he's in his early sixties? He looks damn good, don't you think?

Uncle Frank's First Love

Uncle Frank carried Kirsty on his back to the house. Her knee had stopped hurting her, but her face was still scratchy and prickly from Uncle Frank's stubble.

"Remember what I told you," he whispered, staring straight ahead, his eyes hard. "You know what happens to naughty little girls who break their promises and tell secrets."

"I will, Uncle Frank."

"That's a good little girl."

When she and Uncle Frank stepped into the house, Kirsty heard cupboards opening and closing, and cups clinking on the counter. Mommy and Daddy were talking softly and sweetly to each other, and Kirsty needed them so badly her stomach ached.

Mommy poked her head out the kitchen door. Her face was strange when she looked at Kirsty and Uncle Frank. She looked at them as if they were covered in puke, or had turned into cockroaches.

_Mommy's mad,_ Kirsty thought. _How did she find out? Did she see us behind the tree?_

Kirsty glanced at Uncle Frank from the corner of her eye. His mouth was turned up into a slight smile, and his back muscles were relaxed against Kirsty's front.

Then the grossed-out scared look on Mommy's face went away. She was looking at Kirsty's knee.

"Oh, Kirsty, what happened?" She came toward them, and Kirsty slid down Uncle Frank's back and ran into her arms. "I fell on a rock and Uncle Frank picked me up and told me stories…"

Uncle Frank gently patted his pocket.

"…and I got better."

It wasn't a lie, exactly. She had fallen on a rock, and Uncle Frank had picked her up and told her stories. Her knee wasn't hurting anymore.

Mommy picked Kirsty up and carried her to the kitchen. She sat her on the counter and inspected her knee.

"Oh, baby," Daddy hugged Kirsty tightly. "You got an owie?"

"It looks worse than it is," Mommy said. "It looks like a gouge, but it's just a nasty abrasion."

"Well, that's good, for Frank, that is. Why didn't you carry her right inside, Frank? She could have gotten an infection."

Uncle Frank shrugged. "I suppose I was just more concerned about getting a smile back on her face."

Mommy patted Kirsty's knee with a wet paper towel. The water was icicle cold. Little red dots appeared on the paper. "Frank wouldn't take himself to a hospital if he was on fire, Larry."

Uncle Frank laughed. "That actually happened."

"You were on fire, Uncle Frank? What happened? Did you explode?"

Mommy was standing in front of Kirsty, and Daddy was standing next to Mommy. Uncle Frank stepped into the kitchen and stood on Mommy's other side. Mommy stepped closer to Daddy, acting like she was just reaching up to open a cupboard, but Kirsty could tell she was trying to get away from Uncle Frank. She took down a little tube and put some greasy, gooey stuff on Kirsty's knee.

"I didn't explode, Beautiful, but I was on fire."

"How?" Kirsty didn't even notice Mommy stretch a bandage over her knee.

"Kirsty, Uncle Frank wasn't on fire. It was just his coat," Daddy took Kirsty down from the counter. "Why don't we go visit Nana? She'll be home tomorrow, you know."

"Can I take Hanuman?"

"I suppose so. Just don't forget him at the hospital."

Running up to her room, Kirsty thought about how Uncle Frank got lit on fire. She didn't think that Uncle Frank had been lying. Had he been playing with matches?

After everybody was buckled in (except for Uncle Frank), and Daddy had pulled out of the driveway, Uncle Frank squeezed Kirsty's hand. He crooked his finger at her, motioning her closer.

"Your daddy lit me on fire," he whispered.

Kirsty gasped. Daddy? She looked at the back of Daddy's head, at his fingers tapping the steering wheel.

"What are you two talking about?" Mommy had turned in her seat and was staring at them.

Uncle Frank tickled Kirsty's neck. "Nuh-thing," he sang.

Kirsty squnched her ear to her shoulder, and twisted away, giggling too loudly to cover her nervous feelings. She saw Mommy's eyes in the rearview mirror, and smiled. Mommy smiled back. They smiled at each other all the way to the hospital.

Kirsty knew Uncle Frank was watching Mommy's eyes in the mirror, too. He didn't touch her once.

The next day, the games began.

There were two games, and Kirsty wasn't sure if she was playing by herself, or if Uncle Frank was in on it. Kirsty called the first game Same Room. She came up with the game when she realized that whatever room she was in, Uncle Frank was sure to come in. When Uncle Frank was in the room with her, the game was finished. It wasn't a game anybody won or lost; it just was, in Kirsty's head.

The next game, which started right when Same Room was finished, was what Kirsty called Touchy. Whenever Uncle Frank and Kirsty were in the same room, Uncle Frank would touch her. If he wasn't hoisting her onto his hip, or lifting her onto his lap or shoulders, he was tickling her, holding her hand, or stroking her hair. He especially liked to brush his fingertips over her cheeks and neck. He would stand behind her and cross his hands over her chest, his fingers creepy-crawling slowly up and down, and back and forth, on her skin, until Kirsty wanted to scream. He also liked to kiss her—on the cheek, mostly, but if nobody was looking he would brush her hair aside to kiss her quick on the neck. Touchy made Kirsty feel very strange—hot and queasy, then cold and shaky, but it didn't hurt, not like Uncle Frank's knife would, so she just held still.

Nana seemed to think that Touchy was a nice game. She smiled whenever she saw Uncle Frank and Kirsty together. Kirsty once pulled away from Uncle Frank, and Nana looked so hurt. Kirsty remembered her promise to Nana, and never pulled away again.

Mommy didn't seem to like Touchy. She stared hard at Uncle Frank, but then would shake her head, like she was trying to shake away a bug in her hair. She looked at Kirsty with a question in her eyes, a question she seemed scared Kirsty would answer, and Kirsty would smile, and then find a reason to look away.

She felt Uncle Frank's knife in his pocket. She felt it between her legs whenever he held her on his hip. It pressed against the inside of her thigh whenever she rode on his back.

Kirsty also let Uncle Frank touch her because she hoped he would tell her about Daddy lighting him on fire. She pictured Uncle Frank in flames, rolling around and screaming, and couldn't stop thinking about it. It fascinated her. Daddy wouldn't tell her, no matter what.

"Please, Daddy," she had begged in the car on the way to school. "Would you tell me if I get all A's on my last report card? That's in three days."

Daddy rolled his eyes. "Sweetheart, Uncle Frank was exaggerating."

"My birthday's this weekend, Daddy! You don't have to give me any other presents! Just tell me what happened!"

"It was an accident, Kirsty. A little accident." Daddy pulled up in front of the school. "You're almost done for the year, kiddo. You're going to have the best report card in the whole first grade, and then you'll have the best birthday ever. How old are you again? Seventeen?"

Kirsty giggled. "No!"

"Hmmmm….three?"

"No! I'm seven, Daddy! Seven!"

"I was going to say, you're an awfully mature three- year- old, and if you were seventeen, I suppose I'd have to buy you a car…"

"You can still get me a car." Kirsty decided then and there that when she grew up, she would drive a purple car.

"Maybe in 10-12 years, honey." Father and daughter kissed goodbye. "I love you, darling."

"You too, Daddy."

Kirsty skipped away, looking forward to finishing her unicorn drawing (which kept wanting to change into a sea urchin), and playing on the swings with her friend Lori.

Kirsty did not get all A's. She got a B in addition, a C+ in subtraction and a C in P.E. She cried while Daddy held her on his lap, and Mommy held her hands, and they assured her that she was not stupid. "Look at all the good grades you did get," Mommy told her.

"I suppose you won't be a world- famous dodge-ball player or mathematician," said Daddy. "Oh no! That dream has died." He held his hand over his heart and threw his head back, and Kirsty had to laugh.

Everybody seemed to laugh more. Uncle Frank had been gone the past two whole days. Daddy said he was with one of his girlfriends, or several, and Mama had whipped him with the dish towel. Nana was the only one who seemed sad, and then only sometimes. She was sewing Kirsty's present, and baking Kirsty's cake. Kirsty figured out that whenever Nana stared out the window, and sighed, that meant that she was wondering where Uncle Frank was, and missing him. That was Kirsty's cue to hug her and try to get her to reveal the secret gift she was making.

"You couldn't get that secret out of me for the world," Nana said, tapping Kirsty's nose.

"Is it an animal?"

"Well, of a sort…"

"Is it a cat?"

"No…"

"Is it dog?"

"No…"

"Is it real?"

"It's as real as this table," Nana said, rapping the wood with her knuckles.

"What color is it?"

"That's not a yes or no question!"

"Okay, is it purple?"

"Perhaps."

"That's not a yes or no answer!"

By that point, both Nana and Kirsty were laughing and Nana had forgotten about being sad.

Kirsty had a very happy birthday party. She and her friends got to go to the Children's Museum and make paintings to take home, but that wasn't the best part. The best part was they got to paint a whole wall, using not only brushes, but also their hands. Kirsty painted Hanuman, of course, and a purple horse with wings. Nana had made her cake chocolate with chocolate frosting, just like she asked for, with sprinkles.

When she and Nana and Mommy and Daddy got home, Daddy had Kirsty sit in the big armchair in the living room.

"Close your eyes, Sweetheart," he said, a big grin on his face.

Kirsty sat up straight, crossed her ankles, and softly closed her eyes. She imagined herself as a queen, even though she was in paint-splattered, raggedy jean shorts and an old blouse. She tried to keep her smile dignified and elegant, but her lips kept pulling up, revealing the gap where she had lost a tooth.

She heard something heavy whispering across the rug. She heard it stop in front of her.

Mommy stroked Kirsty's hair. "Open your eyes, darling."

Kirsty opened her eyes to Mickey and Minnie wrapping paper draped over a funny shape. There were no bows or ribbons. She carefully pulled the wrapping paper off. Underneath was the dollhouse of her dreams.

It was three stories tall, and was painted lavender, the color of grape gum. There were six windows on each side of the house. Kirsty walked around it to make sure. There was a chimney, and even little window boxes. Kirsty got on her knees and went around the dollhouse, and there were tiny pink tulips in each window box.

Kirsty couldn't speak. Mommy and Daddy helped her pull the dollhouse open on its hinges. Kirsty didn't know what to look at first—the yellow kitchen with the lacy wisps of drapes, the sink with the little hook of a faucet, and cupboards that opened and closed; the mint green bathroom with the fuzzy scraps of rug and a toilet with a seat she could lift with just the tip of her finger; or the handsome living room, with a dark wooden floor and hunter green couch. She looked at the fireplace and gasped. Curled up next to the fire was a tiny yellow dog, with velvety fur. She could see the contented smile on its face. Right when she picked it up, she saw, perched on the armchair that matched the sofa, a calico cat. She followed the emerald beads of the cat's eyes to a basketful of kittens, each as small as her thumbnail.

The little girl's room had soft pink walls, with a soft bed (Kirsty pressed on it) covered in a silky white comforter. But the best part was the easel. Kirsty touched it, very gently. It was real paper, white and bright. Next to it was a shelf full of teensy jars of paint. On the bed was a miniature stuffed monkey.

A little girl doll, with brown wavy hair and big brown eyes, was standing at the easel. She was smiling.

_That little girl is safe_, Kirsty thought. She didn't know why she thought that. Of course the little girl was safe and happy. Why wouldn't she be? 

There was a Doll Mommy and Doll Daddy. They Doll Daddy had wavy brown hair and blue-gray eyes, and the Doll Mommy had long, smooth brown hair and brown eyes. Their room was the biggest room, and was painted the color of French vanilla ice cream, with a blue bed. The Doll Mommy and Doll Daddy's room was all the way on the other side of the opened house from the little girl's room. When Kirsty pushed the dollhouse shut, the Mommy and Daddy doll's room was right up next to the little girl's room.

It was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. She couldn't speak. She could only stare. There was a chandelier in the hallway, and a wooden staircase, and two bathtubs, one with claw feet, and another with a tiny rubber ducky. It was filling her up, this beautiful gift, and any moment she expected to burst, but there always seemed to be more room in her heart.

She jumped up and hugged both Mommy and Daddy as hard as she could.

Her parents and Nana thought Kirsty was sleeping, but she was playing with the dollhouse.

The little girl doll was painting on the easel. The paints on the shelf didn't work, but there was a doll-sized paintbrush that could fit into the little doll's hand. Kirsty would move the doll's arm over the paper, and then pick up a crayon and draw for the doll. All the kittens were lined up in a row, watching.

"Okay now. Yellow and blue make green. What does yellow and red make?"

She took up the bright orange kitten with the fuzzy pink nose and wiggled him. "Oh, oh!" she had him gasp.

"Tiger," Kirsty said, making her voice extra patient. "Please raise your hand."

"Okay," she said in Tiger's squeaky voice. She rocked him in a close approximation of a hand raising.

"Yes, Tiger."

"Orange! Like me!"

"Very good! Now we're going to talk about purple. Purple is made of—"

"I know," said a voice from the door. "Pick me."

Kirsty felt a strange sensation, like she was getting smaller and turning to stone. "I know you know, Uncle Frank."

Uncle Frank knelt beside her, his hand already brushing her hair from her neck and face even before he was completely on the ground.

"I guess that makes me teacher's pet," Uncle Frank smiled at her. His breath was sharp and smoky.

Kirsty clutched the little girl doll in her fist. "Nana and Mommy and Daddy are downstairs."

"I don't want to sit with them," Uncle Frank leaned in close and breathed in her ear. Kirsty trembled. "They bore the shit out of me. I told them I was going to bed."

"Where have you been?" Kirsty asked.

"In bars and in bed with a woman I met. A redhead. Great tits," he said quietly to himself. Kirsty's skin tightened and prickled. She saw herself small as a mouse, jumping into the dollhouse and slamming it shut. "Could do amazing things with her mouth." Uncle Frank ran his hand over the goose bumps on her arm. "But, at the end of the day, that's all the same. Nothing new." He stroked her cheek, trying to get her to turn towards him. Kirsty didn't move, just stared straight at the easel, with its dots and dashes of color. His hand on her cheek became more insistent. She felt smaller and stonier.

"What's the matter, Kirsty? You think I forgot your birthday? Come on. Come to Daddy." He pulled her stiff body into his arms. "I got you a present. Actually, I got you four presents."

"Four?"

"Yes," he let go of her and lifted himself onto her bed. He reached into his pocket. "The first one is a gift of Earth," he pulled something pink and pearly from his pocket. Kirsty peered at it, nervous about the shape, but it was just a rock. This rock was unlike any rock Kirsty had seen, though. She took it from Uncle Frank, and it was warm and smooth in her palm. The nightlight revealed soft, creamy swirls within the stone.

"It's so pretty," she whispered. "I want to paint all rocks to look like this, in all different colors."

"That's a rose quartz, Beautiful," Uncle Frank sat, elbows on knees, pulling his next present out of his boot. "It's a love stone."

"Yuck. I still like it though," she held it in front of her middle. "It has such a pretty name. Rose Quartz. Oh, look! It matches my pajamas!" Kirsty's pajamas were the present from Nana. They were made out of pale pink silk, with a sleeveless top that buttoned up to a little lace collar, and little pants with lacy ruffles on the bottom. The best parts were the little lacy pockets, which had contained two little white silk mice. The mice, whom Kirsty had christened Daisy and Brie, were now perched on Hanuman's shoulders so they could watch the art lesson.

"Ready for the next one?"

Kirsty nodded. Uncle Frank flipped his wrist, revealing what he held between his two fingers, and brushed it across Kirsty's face, making her nose wrinkle. "This is for Air," he said.

It was a long peacock feather. Kirsty held it next to her nightlight. The black kohl of shadow gave way to lustrous blues and greens as she passed it through the warm beam. It looked sprinkled with gold. Kirsty rubbed it under her chin and giggled.

"Now Water," Uncle Frank said. Something silvery and round flashed rosily in his palm. Kirsty clapped her hands. It was a little silver fish. Kirsty took it and put it in the bathtub of her dollhouse.

"He'll be happy in there," she said, stroking the scaly ridges with her fingertip.

"And…Fire." Kirsty gasped when she felt fingers fiddling at her throat. Uncle Frank was tying something around her neck. "Go look in the mirror," he told her.

Kirsty went to the full -length mirror on her door. The gift for fire was a scarlet cloak that fell almost to her ankles. She could feel its silken breath against her calves and on her bare arms. She pulled up the hood, turning her face into a shadowy oval. The edges of the cloak flared bright in the nightlight.

She whirled in a circle, turning the cloak into vibrant dragon wings. She held her arm over her face and peered menacingly at Uncle Frank, like Dracula.

He laughed and patted his knee. "Come here, Beautiful."

"It's more fun to stand."

"God, you can be such a little bitch, you know that? I gave you all those nice presents, and you haven't even thanked me yet."

Kirsty's eyes stung. She wrapped her cloak around her and tried not to cry. She thought of the knife. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry, Uncle Frank. Thank you."

"I forgive you," Uncle Frank shifted his weight on her bed. Even looking down, she could hear it. "In fact, I have one more Fire present for you. Do you still want to know how your Daddy set me ablaze?"

Kirsty nodded. She hadn't thought about that story at all today. She realized she still wanted very badly to know.

"Okay," Uncle Frank pushed himself so his back was against Kirsty's headboard and his legs stretched out on Kirsty's bed. "But I want to be kissing you and touching you while I tell it."

Kirsty thought of the jolt of her tongue being sucked into Uncle Frank's mouth and froze. Then she thought about the knife and stepped toward the bed, bracing herself.

"Relax, Beautiful," Uncle Frank took the peacock feather from her and brushed it over her cheeks and neck. "I'll be as soft as this. I promise. There's nothing to be afraid of."

She let him lift her onto his lap. His hands ran up and down her back and arms. The cape shielded her a little, and she hugged it tighter around herself. He lifted the hood and kissed her forehead.

"When I was only a little bit bigger than you, and your daddy a little bit bigger than me, we loved to play with fire. Your daddy grew out of this, but I never did. After what happened, I fell madly in love with fire. Do you want to know the truth?" He pushed back the hood of the cape and kissed Kirsty's ear before whispering into it. "Your daddy is scared of fire. In fact, he's scared of a lot of things. He is a scared little man."

Kirsty pulled back from Uncle Frank, forgetting all about his knife, and his teeth, and his hands that tightened around her. "I love Daddy," she said into his eyes. "Don't ever talk about him like that again."

Uncle Frank sat very still and stared at her for a moment. Kirsty sat still, too, amazed that she had dared to do that. She thought about jumping up and running away, but her bed seemed very high suddenly, and the door quite tiny.

"You see!" Uncle Frank burst out, and Kirsty jumped. "You have _balls. You _defend your old man before he ever would! You're like me. I knew it. I knew you had potential." He leaned in close to Kirsty's face. Just before his mouth could touch hers she brought her feather to his lips and tickled them with it. He had slender white lines of dry skin branching through the pink.

"Tell me about how he set you on fire," Kirsty said. "Just don't be mean."

Uncle Frank's eyes and teeth shone. "Hmmm, Kirsty," he breathed. "You could give the ladies in Amsterdam a run for their money. " He paused, looking at her and thinking. "Your daddy and I made Molotov cocktails. Do you know what those are?"

"What do they taste like?"

"You don't drink them, Beautiful. You take a glass bottle, beer is best, and fill it up with gasoline. Then you soak a rag in the beer, or more gasoline, which is even better, and you poke it into the neck of the bottle. " Uncle Frank pretended to poke a rag into a bottle. "You have to leave a little bit of the rag sticking out of the bottle, because that's what you're going to light with your lighter, like this." Uncle Frank pulled out his lighter and sparked it, holding it to the imaginary rag sticking out of the imaginary bottle. "Then you throw the bottle—" he pulled back his arm and pretended to toss the bottle, wrapping his other arm tighter around Kirsty, "—and the magic begins. The glass shatters, and the gasoline sprays everywhere. If you do it right, there will be a trail of gasoline the bottle left as it flew through the air, but not too much, because you need to have a puddle." His arms tightened around Kirsty. "We were in the woods and Larry threw his at a wet log. I was annoyed with my brother, because he brought that goddamn fire extinguisher, and I knew he wouldn't just let the fire burn, not even for a little bit. I wanted to watch the fire spread and grow. Larry never let me. He—" Uncle Frank looked at Kirsty and stopped himself. "But that day your Daddy threw the Molotov cocktail just right. The bottle spun through the air, taking nice, slow summersaults. I could see the little drops of gasoline flying out of the bottle in the sunlight."

Uncle Frank's voice was deepening, and his eyes were looking at the bottle looping through the air, the gasoline glinting in the sun, instead of some space on Kirsty's ceiling. Deep in his pupils was a growing glow. Kirsty didn't want to see that glow and pulled her hood up, took the ends of her cape in her fists, and nestled herself so her temple was in the groove where his collarbone met his shoulder and her belly was against his.

"It hit that log with the most beautiful shatter. I felt the glass break in my brain, right behind my eyes," Uncle Frank whispered. "The gasoline soaked the log and ran down the folds in the bark. It reflected back the orange of the flame, so the bark looked gilded with copper." Uncle Frank's breathing was shallow and quickening. His belly pushed against Kirsty's in little heaves. "It looked like a woman when she's aroused." His rough fingertips found their favorite spot on Kirsty's neck. His smell changed, became something meaty and smoky and a bit like a skunk.

"The flame shrunk," his voice hummed. "I was scared it was going out. After that perfect throw, after that perfect break, I wouldn't have been able to bear it. It got smaller and smaller, until it was just a little flicker, and then that little flicker sniffed around, and found some gasoline. It tapped the gasoline, like when you test a swimming pool with your toe…and then it turned into a little orange tongue and started lapping up that puddle."

Uncle Frank's fingernails were lightly scraping Kirsty's neck.

"And then…"

Uncle Frank fell silent. His fingernails stilled on Kirsty's skin, his belly halted in a breath.

Kirsty waited.

"Beautiful," Uncle Frank finally whispered. "It was so beautiful, like a Phoenix, a bird made out of fire, that burns itself out and then rises from a pile of its own ashes. That fire leaped to life. It jumped off that log and onto the compost beneath it. It couldn't wait to gorge itself on the wood and the leaves. It gave birth to other little fires. It moved along that log like a snake, up and down, up and down, like it was fucking it."

Uncle Frank's f-word scared Kirsty. She didn't know what it meant, only that it was bad, and she expected that any moment now a lightning bolt would fall out of the sky and smite Uncle Frank, and her along with him. That's why it was called a curse word. It was also horribly familiar, not just the word, but the way he said it, all harsh and low, and the way saying it tightened his muscles.

"I had to get closer," Uncle Frank continued, and his voice had an echo of desperation, of frustration. "I wanted to look inside that fire. I wanted to touch it. It wouldn't hurt me, I thought. It would embrace me, and it would feel like heaven. I knew this. It was moving toward the trail of gasoline the bottle made spinning through the air. It was moving toward me, so I went to meet it. It could hear it whisper to me, in a language I could almost understand. It danced for me, twisting and bending. It was getting bigger, and was reaching up toward the tree branches above us. Nobody ever really looks at the colors of a fire. It's indescribable. It's the core of the earth." He seemed to remember that Kirsty was there and ran his fingernails lightly over her cheek. "That's where Persephone lives, with Hades. They live together in jewels and a little further down is that gorgeous ball of fire."

Kirsty was getting too warm herself, from Uncle Frank's heat. She could feel the sweat of his hands through the cape. She imagined this is what Persephone felt, when her uncle Hades held her.

"I was so close. I reached for it, just one finger." He extended his pointer finger and slowly reached out his arm. "I could feel the heat pricking at me, like it wanted to melt away my skin and turn my bones to ashes that would give birth to me anew. I wondered what it would feel like. I couldn't even imagine the pain, or the pleasure, of being made love to by flame, and then being born again from it."

Kirsty didn't understand what Uncle Frank was saying. Why would he want to be burned? She tried to think of an answer, and couldn't come up with anything. She asked herself why he was telling her this, and that answer eluded her as well.

"I was on my knees before that little fire that was growing, getting ready to eat the world. I was still reaching, just for this one little flame in the grass, sitting in a drop of gasoline, when your Daddy tackled me from behind. He was trying to pull me away, you see, but he ran so fast, with the fire extinguisher, he tripped and landed on me. My sleeve landed in a gasoline puddle, and when I lifted it, there was fire moving up my arm."

Someone was trembling. Kirsty wasn't sure if she was shaking or Uncle Frank. She forced her muscles to be as still as possible.

"That flame was my little pet, perched on my arm. It was reaching up to lick my face, and I was waiting for it. "

Uncle Frank fell silent again. "Daddy put it out," Kirsty said, in a whisper so quiet she could barely hear herself.

"Yes," Uncle Frank sounded angry about it. "Daddy put it out. I didn't even have a flame kiss scar as a souvenir." He pushed Kirsty off his lap and rolled away from her, pushing himself up. "So," he said, lifting his shirt, "I got this instead."

"Wow," Kirsty breathed. On Uncle Frank's back was a picture of the most beautiful bird she had ever seen. Its long plumage flowed down Uncle Frank's back in spirals and wisps. It was colored the oranges of the setting sun and the blues of the sky when the first stars come out. There were also shades of blood-red that married with the midnight blue and made violet.

"Uncle Frank, would it be okay if I draw it?"

"Of course. And, I'll take you to get a tattoo."

"I want one just like that."

"Why don't you touch it?"

Kirsty hesitated, weighing the wanting and not wanting, and put her palm flat on Uncle Frank's back, almost expecting soft feathers. Instead, she felt only the smooth heat of Uncle Frank's skin, and the hard bunches of his muscles. She lifted her hand from his back and traced the feathers with her finger. She imagined her finger was a paintbrush that painted whatever colors she thought, and Uncle Frank's back was a piece of paper. She lost herself in the lines and spirals, in the shades of bright and dark, warm and cool.

She didn't know how long she did this. It was Uncle Frank's purring growl that pulled her out of the colors and flowing shapes, and put her back on her knees on her bed, tracing Uncle Frank's back with her finger. She jerked her finger away.

"I'm going to go outside," she said, swinging her legs off the bed. "See you later, Uncle Frank."

"I'll go out with you," Uncle Frank said. Kirsty's bed let out what sounded like a breath, and then Uncle Frank walked silently over her carpet.

"You should go to bed."

"Kirsty," Uncle Frank stood over her, tall and broad. He was black leather and chains. He was fire. He was the knife. She had already gotten away with too much.

"Okay," she whispered. "You can play with me." She thought of what to say to make him happy, and added, "Please play with me." She thought how to phrase her next words so he wouldn't think she was bossing him around. "Let's be really quiet, until we get to the backyard."

He smiled at her, and, with some relief, Kirsty poked her head out her door and listened. The house was silent. She tiptoed down the hall to the head of the stairs, pausing and listening in the dim light Mommy and Daddy kept on in case Nana had to go to the bathroom. She heard nothing but Uncle Frank moving behind her. She turned toward him.

"Okay. Let's go. You'll never catch me, Big Bad Wolf!" She hissed.

Giddy from breaking a rule, and delirious with a strange sense of power, she hopped down the stairs and ran out the door, into the cool of the moon and the shadows of the trees. She felt invisible out here, with the moon and the stars as the only lights. She looked up at the sky, found the brightest star, and spun around, loving the feel of the grass as the soles of her feet patted it in a circle. She burst out laughing, breaking away from the star to run in circles around the lawn, zig-zagging through the trees. She let her cape open up.

She paused under a tree branch, checking it for owls. She felt the happy thud of her heart change to a gallop as she was lifted up toward the top of the tree and closer to the bright star. The world blurred like the view from a speeding train as Uncle Frank swooped her down, and then she found herself free as he tossed her high into the air. For a moment, she was suspended from that white-hot star, and then she fell back into Uncle Frank's waiting hands and tossed back up. Her cape billowed around her. The moon inclined its face toward Kirsty, round and kind, like Nana.

Kirsty blew it a kiss before Uncle Frank lowered her to the ground and she led him in a breathless, giggling chase.

As she crouched behind a tall shrub, she felt less like a clumsy, round-cheeked little girl and more like a silken-winged firebird.

Uncle Frank burst into the shrubbery, growling. He rolled her onto her back, and as his mouth explored the silk of her nightshirt, and his nails scratched up and down her legs, she noticed the moon had changed. Its face looked less like Nana, and more like a man. The soft aura of light surrounding it become brighter and sharper, and seemed to split from each other.

The moon man was staring at Kirsty.

Uncle Frank softly bit her shoulder.

The moon-man's moonbeams looked like spikes.


End file.
